


What We Are

by ConstancePenman



Category: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: M/M, Memories, Names, Psychological rambling, ahh i love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstancePenman/pseuds/ConstancePenman
Summary: What is a person aside from their memories? How little can there be of them until it isn't enough?





	

Guilden--No, it was Rosencrantz. Again.   
  
Rosencrantz laid on the brick half wall in the courtyard of Elsinore’s castle. He tapped his fingers against his chest in a relaxed manner, merely allowing them to do what they would.   
  
Guildenstern--perhaps Guildenstern--was talking about something.   
  
_Memories_ , Rosencrantz vaguely recognized.   
  
Guildenstern put great importance into memories for someone who didn't have any. Or perhaps it was because he didn't have any that he viewed them as so necessary. Rosencrantz did not share this view. To him, it was alright if he couldn't remember as long as he knew that the two of them were Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, even if he occasionally couldn't recall which was which.   
  
"Two names are not enough to go through life," Guildenstern continued as Rosencrantz began to listen. "We are not our names--"   
  
"If one is not their name," he interrupted, "then what are they?"   
  
"Usually I would say one is their memories, but we clearly are and we are not in possession of any. But... Surely we should not be. Are we? Without memories?"   
  
Rosencrantz remained silent for a moment, puzzled by this question, before he came to his own conclusion and answered, "Well... Yes. We are without our memories. Are you with your memories without me?"   
  
Now Guildenstern looked puzzled. "What? No. You misunderstand me. I meant, 'Without our memories, are we--' the 'are we' being in the existential manner."   
  
"Ah," replied Rosencrantz to communicate his understanding. He then thought for a bit, burrowed his brow, and amended, "I don't understand."   
  
Guil sighed. "No, you wouldn't."   
  
"Well, I think it's for the best we don't remember. Sometimes memories are the worst kind of torture."   
  
Guildenstern hummed, considering this. "Dissociative amnesia. Haven't we discussed this possibility before?"   
  
Rosencrantz shrugged.   
  
"The memories themselves don't have to be painful to hurt. It could be a memory of a marriage or a great love or the birth of a child and you could be sad thinking about. If something is a memory, that means that whatever had happened is over. Sometimes the happiest ones hurt most of all," Ros said, allowing all his thoughts to tumble out without much concern for whether they were well described.   
  
This made Guil pause, as Ros' more thought out monologues usually did.   
  
Finally, he replied, "Do you actually think we could have lived happy lives?"   
  
It didn't take Ros nearly as long as it should have to answer, "Of course. I don't see why we can't now."

Guildenstern sat glumly beside him. Rosencrantz sat up to lend his shoulder to a heavy head. 

“I wish I couldn’t see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Ros didn’t tell him that that wasn’t the point of the apology, didn’t tell him that despite his blindness he could feel the impossibility deep in his chest, didn’t tell him that listening to the other man speak relieved that weight however temporarily. He didn’t tell Guil, but he smiled into his hair and hoped that that was enough.


End file.
